


Narrow Escape

by IrishWitch58



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, slow speed chase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: Q gets targeted by assassins and is joined on the run by Bond as his protector. What happens when narrow boating doesn't necessarily stay there.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 34
Kudos: 258





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a short film piece about canals and narrow boat holidays and this happened.

“Ethan, you are being ridiculous,” Q sat back in the armchair and sipped the excellent gin and tonic. Ethan always kept top shelf liquor. “I don't need a partner in my life. I have my work and that's hard enough without managing dating and all that nonsense.” 

Ethan grinned at his old friend. “You could always give up the stress and go back to academia.”

“And what, move in with you? We'd tear each other apart. You can't stand to be second, ever. And I always have times when the work is the only thing on my mind. I like you better as a friend and a bartender,” Q acknowledged, refusing a second drink. 

“Well what about work then?” Ethan suggested. “Isn't there someone at work you fancy?” He looked over the top of his own glass and Q felt his ears going hot. “Oh there is,” Ethan crowed. “Tell us, then.”

“It's nothing.” Q asserted. “He's just a colleague I've worked with for a bit. He's in the applications division you might say.”

“So what is he like?” Ethan persisted. “Have you tried talking to him outside work?” At Q's sudden alarmed expression, Ethan blurted out, “Oh please, don't tell me you fell for a straight man!”

Q closed his eyes and shook his head. “If I had to guess, I'd say yes. He's just charming to everyone. Not as if it matters anyway. I'm hardly going to attract his notice even if he were gay. I'm someone he works with, that's all. Half the time I think he doesn't see me at all and when he does he criticizes my taste in clothes.”

Ethan leaned forward, poking a finger at Q. “He notices your clothes. That means he notices you. I think you should give it a chance.”

“What, make a pass? Never. I have to work with the man. I can't risk it.” He couldn't very well tell Ethan that personal difficulties overflowing into work situations at his job could get someone killed. He stood up and walked to the door. Ethan followed, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I'll talk to you soon, Ethan. Were you planning on going to Beatrice's wedding?”

Ethan laughed. “I pretty much have to. I'm her chief attendant. She loathes her sisters and I've been her best friend since nursery school. Supposedly the groom's mother hates the idea but Paul is a smart man. He told his Mum she could behave herself or stay home, that he was supporting Beatrice's choice.” He walked down the lawn to Q's car and leaned in the window. “We should do a pub crawl with her before the big day. Hit all the old places?”

“We'll do just that. Stay well Ethan.” Q dropped the car into gear and waved as he turned at the bottom of the lane. 

Q had borrowed a conservative Mercedes sedan for the drive to Ethan's place near Ely. It was comfortable but handled a bit stiffly, as it had some after market additions, including armoring. Department heads didn't just take road trips in a random rental. He had to take a detour. He had seen the construction on the way up and navigated to the country road which bypassed the mess. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he looked in his rear view. He was nowhere close to a field agent in his level of suspicion but he had taken the required classes to identify potential risks. He was sure he had seen this exact same small van on the way up. It had a distinctive dent in the roof near the windscreen. He tried slowing down and it dropped back. He signaled for a turn and, after a second, it did as well. He flipped off the signal and continued driving. He had to think. There was other traffic on the road so it was unlikely whoever this was would try anything until it was quieter. He could hit the distress signal on his phone but it was doubtful there was anyone near enough to be of assistance and he was reluctant to involve the local police, not knowing what weapons or backup the van might have. 

The road emptied out as people came to their turnings and the van began moving up. He was taken by surprise by a larger van coming the opposite direction. It sideswiped the Mercedes, which veered into the trees lining the road. Q fought it back to the pavement only to have it hit again from the rear. This time it's weight overbalanced and it toppled down a steep incline, coming to rest half in and half out of a small stream. He slapped the seat belt release and clawed past the airbag and out of the car. He checked his sidearm and phone and scrambled down the small waterway to a dense stand of brush. He tapped out a sequence on the phone, and waited, watching as the two vehicles stopped above him and five men got out. One stayed up with the vans, the other four descended the slope, carrying what looked like Uzi's. It was hard to tell from where he was, especially with his glasses full of powder from the air bag and one eye swelling shut. He waited till they were close enough and tapped the final number in the sequence. There was a burst of heat and a huge crack of sound as the Mercedes exploded. The four trigger men were caught in the blast, one of them thrown Q's way, face blackened, eyes wide in death. The man at the top of the ravine made an attempt to get down but there were approaching sirens and he made a retreat to one of the vans, departing in a spray of gravel. Q hauled himself up, found the keys in the other vehicle and headed away from the sirens.


	2. Chapter 2

Q left the van at a pull off and threw the keys away in a storm drain. He didn't want anyone else getting caught up in whatever this was by driving around in it. He was in sight of the motorway again and there was a transport cafe at this exit. The parking lot was busy and there was that archaic marvel, a pay phone. He looked around carefully and then approached it. He dialed the number after dropping in the coins and waited. The line picked up after a few rings and gave him a numerical menu. He punched in a code and a female voice answered. “Yes?”

“Hullo, Danielle. I had a bit of trouble. Can you see the last position of the Mercedes?”

After a moment or two, she whistled under her breath. “Even if I didn't see the tracker, the police presence would be a giveaway. I take it you're all right?”

“Reasonably. I'm at a cafe. Trace this phone back. Send whatever back up you can. This place has enough people to give anyone after me second thoughts.” He rang off and entered the cafe, detouring to the men's room to wash his face and shake his clothes out. He cleaned his glasses and decided he couldn't do anything about the black eye. He ordered tea and a sandwich and found a table near the window but out of it's direct line of sight and waited. His phone vibrated and he glanced at it under the table. 'Cousin Jim says he'd be happy to give you a ride. He'll be there in twenty. It's on his way.' 

Smart move. Q's phone was heavily encrypted but nothing about technology was ever 100%. He nibbled at the sandwich which was abominable. The tea was passable and he ordered another. As he returned from the counter, two men entered and walked past him. Something about them wasn't right. He returned to his table and they picked one between him and the door. It clicked after a moment or two. Gun oil. They smelled of Hoppe's #9. Your average lorry driver smelled of petrol and cigarettes, not gun oil. These men were part of the group after him. They might not have been at the crash site but they were definitely part of it. 

It was a little longer than the promised twenty minutes when a big green Range Rover pulled into the lot and backed into a space. The man emerging from the vehicle strode confidently across the car park. Of course it was Bond. 'Cousin Jim' indeed. He was casually dressed in a high necked jumper, a nylon wind cheater and dark wash denim. He pulled off his sunglasses and tucked the ear piece into a pocket and stepped inside. He made a survey of the room before he joined Q. “The table near the door?” he mouthed silently as he seated himself. Q nodded. Bond looked relaxed but Q could sense the coiled energy in him. “So, Aunt Danielle said you needed a lift?”

Q fell into step with the subterfuge. “Yeah, friend was supposed to drive me but he had a bit of a blow up with his boss. Mum said this was on your way?”

“Yeah, I went wreck diving with some friends up by Whitby, an old U boat. Good weather anyway. I was on the way home when Auntie called me to make sure you made it for dinner.” He flicked his eyes toward the table behind him. “I'll just get a cup of coffee for the road. You can head out to the car.” He passed over the keys and stood up. Q was sweating and his heart was pounding but he managed to keep his face calm and walked rather than ran for the door. Bond stood at the counter. Q was aware of the men standing and knew they had followed him. He actually made it as far as the Range Rover when one of them slammed him into the side of the vehicle and gripped his arm. He felt the point of a knife at his ribs and heard a whoosh and a thump. He saw movement in the window glass and the pressure was off his arm with another muffled shot. Bond tucked away the gun and it's suppressor and dragged the bodies to the rear of his vehicle where there was a culvert and tipped them over. He walked nonchalantly to the driver's side and gestured for the keys. When they were both seated, he pulled out smoothly and drove with all due care back to the motorway. 

“So what's going on?” Bond asked as they moved along at the posted speed. 

Q described the day's events, and poked at his side which stung. He pulled back bloodied fingers and hauled his shirt up to see the damage. In addition to the bruises from his earlier encounter with the seat belt, there was a shallow gouge along one rib. Bond took a quick glance and then focused on the road. “I have a first aid kit in the back. We'll fix it when we stop. See what HQ says.”

Q sent off a message and Danielle almost immediately called back. He put the call on speaker. “You can't come in yet. The police are already looking for your car. Someone hacked into the police databases and they're looking for you as terrorists. Until we can sort it out, you need to get out of sight and stay under. I'd advise burner phones and call my personal line. Turn yours off.”

“I was already planning to do that Danielle.” He disconnected the call and powered the phone off. He considered discarding it entirely but decided to wait a bit. Bond was already fishing his phone out and passing it over. Q powered it off as well and placed both in his pocket. They pulled off the motorway to less traveled roads and found a sign for an Argos where Bond spent a few minutes in the shop making a cash transaction for two new phones. They used one of Bond's several aliases and put enough money on them for a few weeks worth of calls. Q used his to call Danielle on her private line just to have the number show up for her. They concealed the Range Rover nearby and found a car rental. Again, an alias and a credit card secured them a new vehicle. Bond drove it back to the Rover and transferred everything out of it to the rental including a set of scuba tanks, the first aid kit, and his personal luggage. They found a hotel and used the same ID and card as they had for the rental and got a room.


	3. Chapter 3

After Bond left the hotel with a watch cap pulled down to hide his hair and shadow his face, Q decided to shower. The hot water washed away the rest of the grime of the day but opened the shallow knife graze again. He held a clean flannel to it until it stopped bleeding and then finished drying off. He was sitting wrapped in the towel when Bond returned carrying several fair sized bags and a smaller one. He set the smaller one near the TV and beckoned Q over to the table which had a hanging lamp above it. “You look a bit like me after a mission,” he commented as he opened up the first aid kit. He handed over some pills and a bottle of water. Q swallowed obediently and watched as Bond set out some antiseptic wipes and dabbed at the wound on Q's ribs. It stung but Q managed to avoid any embarrassing noises. Bond applied some sterile tape strips and a bandage over that. “I brought food and some clothes for you. I hope I got the size right.”

Q took the bags to the bathroom. Bond had been thorough. There were a variety of casual garments all, he noted, in his size. Spies. He donned briefs and a pair of drawstring sweatpants with a tee shirt. He noted there was a pair of trainers to replace his shoes damaged by his trek through the stream. He left the rest of the clothing on one of the beds and saw that Bond had unpacked the smaller bag on the table. The takeaway was still warm and Q dove in with a will. Q was left to mull over the situation when Bond finished his meal and headed for the shower himself. He turned on the TV and was dismayed to see the news reporting a man with his description being wanted for a botched terrorist bombing, They had a grainy CCTV frame of him at the cafe. There was also a report of an unknown accomplice responsible for killing two men. Apparently Bond had managed to keep his face directed away from the camera. All they had of him was a general silhouette of a solidly built man. Q was quite glad they had left the Range Rover behind as they had a good description of it and the plate number. Fortunately, that was registered to one of Bond's aliases.

Q left the news on and sorted through the rest of the clothing, finding he had a small travel shaving kit in the bags as well as a duffel to pack everything else into. He folded the clothes neatly and placed them in the duffel, leaving the shaving kit on top for the morning. He lay down on the bed and paid minimal attention to the TV which was now on to the weather. Bond emerged from the bathroom, steam trailing after him. He was scrubbing at his hair with a towel, a second one wrapped around his trim waist. 

“We're fugitives,” Q commented, gesturing at the TV. Bond shrugged and pulled clean clothing out of his bag. Q pointedly looked at the ceiling when the towel dropped. He didn't trust himself not to have his face give him away. When he looked back, Bond was dressed in dark blue MI6 sweats, hands on hips and studying the news which had cycled back to the fugitive hunt.

“They don't have much,” Bond offered. “If we're careful, they won't get near us. It's not the first time I've had local authorities on my tail.” He switched the TV to an old episode of Top Gear and settled on the other bed. “What were you doing in this area, Q? Doesn't seem like you somehow.” Bond didn't look his way, eyes apparently on the TV.

“I was visiting an old friend, We were at university together.” Q wondered if Ethan would be approached by the authorities. He didn't dare risk contacting him. “We spent some time catching up.” Q shifted to his side facing Bond. “Wreck diving?”

Bond smiled. “I rarely get a chance to dive for sport. There's a U boat wreck off Whitby. An old Navy buddy of mine invited me to dive it with him. Military wrecks are tricky. It's pretty common to find unexploded ordnance. Have you ever gone scuba diving?”

Q gave a rueful shake of his head. “I swim fairly well but never had the opportunity to learn diving.”

“You might want to take one of the training classes at 6. It's pretty easy to learn the basics and you'd get your C Card. You'd be able to make it something for a holiday.”

Q reflected that he never took holidays, indeed, had never been farther from London than this. “I'll think about it when this is all sorted out.” He slithered under the covers and put his glasses on the nightstand between the beds. Bond switched the light off but left the TV on, the sound muted. Q could see the flicker through his closed lids until he eventually fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Bond was dressed and shaved when he woke Q. “I'm going to get breakfast and check out an idea. Lock the door after me.”

Q did exactly as directed. He eased himself into fresh clothing, wincing at the pull of bruised muscles. He looked at his face in the mirror and decided shaving might best be put off. A fresh growth of beard might help make him less recognizable. Bond returned in about forty five minutes, bearing bacon sandwiches and cups of coffee. 

“Do you know Ely has a place where you can rent narrow boats?” Bond asked, passing over a brochure. 

Q glanced at the glossy paper as he ate. “You mean those things people holiday on?”

Bond nodded and sipped his coffee. “My idea is we rent one and just cruise the waterways. The roads will be watched so we just take a nice leisurely holiday while they exhaust themselves looking for us and give MI6 time to sort it all out.”

Q frowned, turning the idea over in his head and looking for flaws. “You know how to manage one?” he asked.

“The rental place checks you out on them. Besides, I've sailed all kinds of small craft. It can't be that hard. You keep out of sight while I speak to the agent. I'll rent it for a week or two. You just climb aboard when no one is looking and stay below if anyone is around.”

Q nodded. “I have no better ideas. Your plan sounds like it would work. Nobody would think of fugitives attempting a low speed escape after all.”

They finished eating, loaded the rental car and checked out. Q remained in the vehicle as they made a stop at a grocery and Bond stocked up on food for the boat before moving on to the Black Prince yard. Q watched as the agent led Bond to a craft tied off in the tiny marina. Bond and the employee went over the engine and steering. There was a handshake and Bond signed something on a clipboard. He returned to the car and pulled it up to the quay. The contents of the car were quickly transferred to the boat with Q ducking aboard when Bond signaled him to do so. Q helped stow the goods, impressed by the appointments of their waterborne accommodation. The interior was all practical built ins including a stove top and a refrigerator. There was a large TV and comfortable seating. After getting the food sorted out, Q sat and looked through the open rear doors as Bond steered. The diesel was not terribly noisy and their movement into the main waterway was smooth, Bond obviously as skilled as expected. Choosing his course, he called down to Q. “I got the agreement for two weeks. The route is fairly easy but doubles around some. I'll try to keep clear of other boats when we have to manage the locks. Those are a bit easier with two people.”

Q found the map provided and laid it out on the table. He presumed they'd follow the company's predetermined route to avoid creating suspicion. Q had found a watch cap and hooded wind cheater in the clothing Bond had gotten him and, after several miles of cruising, he joined him at the stern. The small platform had seating built in. “It's a cruiser stern,” James commented. “More space to move. The older traditional boats look more like that.” He pointed to a vessel they were passing that had almost no platform, just a narrow step at the stern. “You stand on a step inside the rear doors so you can look over to steer.” He waved cheerily at the older woman at the tiller, remarking, “Better to seem social. People will remember you if you don't act friendly out here.”

They cruised for about six hours, having spent some of that time letting Q try his hand at the tiller. He was pleased to find it easy and took turns with Bond after that. They meandered along until Bond decided he had found a good place to tie up. There were two other boats already stopped a bit upstream of them. Bond selected a spot around a bit of a bend that didn't leave a direct line of sight. Music drifted on the early evening air as Bond stepped across and tied up. He carefully moved small branches around a bit to make a silent approach difficult. He returned and closed the stern doors as he entered, keeping in the heat. Q had the kettle on and was assessing choices for a meal. He had a few go to things he knew how to do reasonably well and settled on a simple stir fry. Bond, seeing the plan, moved in to help, chopping vegetables with economical movements. 

They ate quietly, leaving the news playing on the TV but muted. It seemed they were still the story of the day. “This was a good idea,” Q commented. “They're running themselves ragged setting up roadblocks and searching cars headed out of the area.”

Bond nodded. “They won't have much interest in holiday makers on very slow boats who are just cruising aimlessly. Fairly good cover.” He poured himself more coffee. “Any thoughts on why you were targeted? I mean, your position means you are always, in some sense, a target. Why now and why this way?”

Q's forehead creased in concentration. “Well, missions I'm always in the background. But there are a few projects I work on otherwise. I wonder...could it be that simple?” He looked ahead at nothing in particular. “I routinely send feelers into all sorts of systems. Government, scientific, businesses. I test out their firewalls and see what weaknesses can be exploited. Most of the time I find nothing much. A few weeks ago, I was following a Chinese hacker, figuratively speaking, and they were doing a pretty good job of getting into this company's database. As a matter of fact, it felt way too easy. I tried it on my own and their security was truly awful. And this was a company making a new guidance chip for air to air missiles. I sent a memo to M to forward up that these were issues that were well known five years ago and had easy fixes. The government apparently canceled the contract and dropped their security rating so they won't be getting anymore work. The CEO was, apparently, livid.”

“Who was it?” Bond asked.

“Margery Lansdorf, Legend Unlimited.”

Bond whistled. “Her father was notoriously ruthless and rumor has it she's worse. Her stock tanked over this?”

“Badly,” Q responded.”There's suddenly all new blood in their IT security division and some of the work reminds me of Chinese intelligence work. It has a specific signature.”

“Could one of them have backtracked the original hacks to you?” Bond asked seriously. “Because if that's possible, I doubt she would hesitate to remove you from the picture.”

“Anything's possible. I'm not so arrogant that I believe my own security is unbreachable. If it was hacked, I trust R to find the break. Just not sure how long that will take. And in the meantime we need to avoid the authorities. Local police wouldn't stop the kind of contacts I think she has.”

“Agreed. So what can they know about you?” Bond asked.

“One of my aliases at least. Doubt anything about you. In-house staff is compartmentalized separately from field. So they may suspect that the person with me is a bodyguard but they won't know how good.” Q ran a hand along his jawline. “First time in a long while I've tried to grow a beard, but it's an easy way to make me less readily recognizable to a casual observer.”

Bond smiled. “I think it looks good on you. I'd suggest losing the glasses as well but I'm not really sure how bad your vision is.”

“Not good,” Q shook his head. “I'm afraid I'll have to keep them.”

“That's all right. I'm used to seeing you like that.” Bond rose and moved forward. “I'm for a shower.”

“There's a shower?” Q asked.

“These things are set up like small hotel suites,” Bond called back as he entered the washroom. “You may want to check the berth forward. The list says linens are provided but I don't know if they actually make the beds up.”


	5. Chapter 5

The water hissed and pattered in the shower and Q sidled past in the passageway heading for the bow. The slight movement of the water was gentle, occasionally more active when another boat passed the mooring spot. He looked in some dismay at the space. The bed was, indeed, made up. But it was only the one bed. He was about to retreat to the living area and investigate the seating benches as a potential bed when he was confronted by the spectacle of Bond emerging completely naked from the folding doors of the shower and reaching for a towel. As much as he tried to look away, Q simply couldn't manage it. The lines and planes of skin over muscle drew him and he felt his face heat. He backed away slowly, still unable to look anywhere else. 

Bond was watching him as well, as he calmly removed a towel from the airing cupboard. Q eased back even further, finally out of sight, and sank down on the edge of the mattress, hands falling limply between his knees. He had truly cocked things up this time. There was no way Bond could have failed to recognize the desire Q had felt shaking him.

He heard some additional noise of water running for a bit. He ventured into the passage and past the bathroom. Bond had his back mostly to the door and was shaving. Moving as quietly as possible, Q returned to the living area. He grabbed the nylon jacket and the watch cap and eased out the stern doors, nudging them closed behind himself. He sat on the deck, head below the railing and stretched his legs out in front of himself. He looked up at the stars through the tangle of tree limbs and breathed slowly. He deliberately picked out the sounds around him. Crickets, the slap of water against the hull, music and indistinct voices from the other boats. Eventually, the panic ebbed a bit.

At about the time he began to feel a bit calmer, the doors eased open and Bond climbed out, stepped to the tiller rail and turned so his back was to it. “How long?” he asked simply, expression invisible in the shadows. 

Q could have evaded or avoided. He'd had a lot of experience at that. Right now he didn't have the energy. “It's surely not the first time you've had admiring glances from another man,” he countered very quietly.

Bond nodded, as if considering. “Yes, absolutely. I've had offers as well. Some I've accepted, some not. That was more than an admiring glance.”

Q drew his knees up, an instinctive, self protective gesture. “Couldn't you just leave it alone?”

Bond eased himself down, sitting facing Q, legs stretched out and ankles crossed. “I might if it didn't seem to be making you miserable. We have an awful lot to deal with already. I'd prefer to understand what's happening between us.”

“Nothing's happening!” Q snapped back. “I get it. I'm not stupid enough to throw myself at you. I was caught by surprise, that's all. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

“That's a pity. I was rather hoping something might happen.” Bond's voice was a disembodied presence in the dark. “I wondered if you were being professional, all that workplace harassment stuff, or if you just didn't see me looking back.” Q was beginning to feel a sense of unreality. This conversation was happening in a sort of bubble of time and space that didn't exist in the world he usually moved and worked in. “I suppose that makes some type of sense,” Bond continued. “I don't give away much at all after so many years in the game.” 

Q didn't have an answer. He tightened the hold he had on his knees and pressed his face into the fabric of the corduroy trousers. He remembered Bond had bought them, along with the rest of the clothes he had needed for this eccentric escape of theirs. Bond just sighed and shifted around. Q didn't dare move as the man settled himself into the corner where Q had been huddled, his warmth bleeding across the tiny space left between them. 

Bond sighed and, in an apparently casual movement, brushed against Q's arm. “You don't look very comfortable.” The arm lifted and encircled Q's shoulders. There was a split second when Q actually thought about running but there was no place to hide on a boat less than 50 feet long. “So, I actually do have some civilized manners. Would you be terribly upset if I kissed you?”


	6. Chapter 6

Q's head came up so fast he almost hit Bond in the chin. “What?” was all his brain could manage.

Bond squeezed Q's shoulders slightly. His voice was a gentle whisper. “I asked if you'd be upset if I kissed you.”

Q could only see the vague outline of the man so close to him. He had no way to judge his expression, although, given that the man had a masterful poker face, he doubted if that would be any advantage. Was he really over thinking this? Bond was seemingly offering him what he had wanted for what felt like forever. “No, I wouldn't,” he replied.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when firm lips stole them away. Bond found his mouth with unerring accuracy and brought his hand up to run careful fingers through Q's hair. He deepened the kiss by slow degrees, a bit more pressure and a slow glide of a tongue along the seam of Q's lips. Q relaxed by small increments. Or at least his initial apprehension eased. He was not at all relaxed. Every nerve seemed charged with electricity and all focused on points where they touched, the support of a solid arm around his shoulders, the flex of cradling fingers against his scalp, and the heat of their mouths meeting in careful exploration. He didn't really even care where this was going. The immediacy of the kiss was sufficient. He opened his mouth on a sigh and felt Bond dip just the tip of his tongue in and then retreat, an invitation Q accepted, following to trace the edges of teeth and then tangle with Bond's tongue. He eased out of the taut crouch he had held for too long and brought his own arms up to circle Bond's shoulders, tracing his fingertips over the slightly bristly short hair at his nape. He felt a bit daring and pushed the kiss harder, and was gratified when Bond chuckled somewhere deep in his chest and upped his own intensity. It became heated and messy and Q finally pulled away just a fraction, trying to shift as he found his trousers too restricting. He bit his lip as he tried to find a more comfortable position and Bond whispered, “You shouldn't do that.”

“What?” Q asked, abruptly concerned he had done something to ruin the mood.

“You shouldn't bite your lip because it makes me want to do the same,” Bond advised. Q realized that the slow rise of the moon had silvered the small deck with enough light to see by. And before he had time to admire the view, Bond stole his breath with another kiss, long and wet that ended with him worrying at Q's lower lip with careful nips and then soothing with a final lick. “I think we might want to move this inside. We're going to scandalize anyone sailing by now that the moon is up.” He rose in a single graceful move and offered a hand for Q to clamber to his feet. Q was grateful for the assist, feeling awkward and cramped and wondering how he was supposed to walk when he was this hard. He almost tripped on the step inside the sliding doors. Bond appeared not to notice. At least he didn't say anything. He waited until Q had both feet on the floor again before slipping up behind him. Solid arms slid around Q's waist and up to tug at the zipper of his jacket. Warm breaths tickled his neck as a voice whispered, “What do you like?”

Q was finding it difficult to think, much less speak. That voice was doing odd things to him and the tiny kisses Bond placed randomly on the side of his neck weren't helping his concentration in the slightest. Somehow his jacket and cap had been removed and Bond was holding his shoulders lightly, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs. Q had an impression they had been standing there for some time. “I'm sorry,” he offered. “I got a little lost in what I'm feeling...”

Bond laid a light kiss on Q's left ear. “Never apologize for that. It's very flattering. But I would like a bit of verbal feedback, at least at first. After all, not everyone likes the same things, or even the same things all the time.”

Q turned around, dislodging those marvelous hands, and placed his own on Bond's face, turning it to the light and studying him carefully. “Who are you and what have you done with 007?” 

Bond grasped Q's hands quite carefully and carried them to his mouth, kissing the palms and running his tongue over the sensitive fingers until Q shuddered. “You could always just call me James, if that makes it easier.”

Q eased forward, pressing them even closer together, pleased they were almost a match in height. He didn't have to stretch awkwardly to get his mouth on the lovely bit of skin below James' left ear. He inhaled slowly, absorbing the scents of the man, soap and light spicy aftershave. He brushed his mouth over the spot and then nudged the ear lobe with his nose. He smiled a little. Those were ridiculous ears and he found them adorable when he allowed himself to think about them. “James,” he whispered, “take me to bed.”

James brought his hands down and palmed Q's arse, squeezing carefully and pressing their erections together. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” He spun Q around before things could go further, because Q suddenly thought the bed was a bit too far away. “Go on, meet you in there after I lock up.” He busied himself with the stern door. “And you might want to be out of the clothes,” he called over his shoulder. “I'd hate for any of your new things to get torn.” 

It couldn't be called running. There wasn't enough room to do so. But Q managed to get to the bedroom very efficiently. He stared at the bed and decided it might be practical to remove the duvet. He folded it and then bundled it off to a tiny cupboard that contained additional pillows and blankets. He kicked his trainers off to a corner under the bow windows as he diligently pulled the shades into place. He stripped quickly, putting his clothes as neatly as he was able in his current state, on top of the built in cupboard. At least the bloody socks were gone. He hated when he forgot them and felt ridiculous removing them halfway through proceedings. He was unaware of James approaching until a kiss landed on his shoulder and he jumped forward and tripped into the bed. 

James, the bastard, was laughing. “Well that accomplished the part about getting into bed. I might point out you still have pants on.”

Q rolled to the side and glared through his tangled hair. “So do you,” he responded, unable to come up with anything more cogent. James had stripped off somewhere along the way to the bed, but had left his briefs on.

“Easily remedied, darling.” And just that smoothly, James skinned out of the dark grey briefs and tossed them into the corner. Of course Q had to stare. The man was striking in clothes but without, he was so much more. Q had daydreams about Bond naked. They were his favorite subject. He was happy to see his fantasies paled next to the real thing. Tanned skin showed sharp demarcations at hips and upper thighs, Bond favoring small swim shorts that Q had admired on video footage of missions. The skin stretched over firm muscle that flexed as James eased a knee onto the mattress and moved closer. His erection bobbed as he moved and Q couldn't look away. Firm and perfectly proportioned, it lured him. Q licked his lips and dragged his eyes up to James' face to discover he was being as carefully surveyed, with approval, if the darkening of the glacial blue eyes was any indicator. James reached a hand for the pants Q had neglected to remove. “I suppose I should be polite and help you?” He teased his fingers along the waistband as Q's increasingly interested cock twitched, moisture dampening the soft fabric. Q raised his hips helpfully and the pants slid off with minimal fuss. James was left leaning over him, gaze wandering as Q felt his skin heat. He could feel the color flood his skin and only blushed harder the more he thought about it. James smiled and lifted Q's glasses off and placed them carefully on a shelf above the bed. “You blush all over,” he said with a smile. 

Q might have said something but James' kissed him again and lowered his body so their erections brushed past each other. Q rutted up wanting more pressure. James pulled back a fraction from the kiss and rested his forehead against Q's. He wasn't even breathing hard and Q was already frantic. Q found his eyes crossing as a soft peck of a kiss was deposited on his nose. He blinked as James moved down, kissing random bits of skin and rubbing his nose through the line of dark beard that shaded Q's jaw. He veered off down one side of his neck and sucked a bruise into the skin over a collar bone making Q jerk and moan. The kisses became mixed with small nips here and there, never predictable and always eliciting a soft sound from Q. When James hit an especially ticklish spot on his ribs, Q squirmed and James just kissed the spot and moved on. He seemed intent on taking Q apart one inch at a time and was succeeding admirably. He dragged his mouth down Q's midline, his breath stirring the dark hairs. Q had one arm flung out to the side and the other reached down to stroke James' head, offering tacit encouragement. James paused to move further down the bed, determinedly nudging Q's thighs apart and settling between them. Q stared transfixed. “Oh fuck, please...” The desperate entreaty hardly sounded like his voice at all.

“Please what?” James asked running firm hands up the tense muscles of Q's legs. “Was that a 'please stop' or a 'please suck my cock'?” His smile was promising and predatory at once. Q dropped his head back into the pillows, pleasure and frustration bubbling through his blood. The infuriating man was going to drive him mad.

“You'll have to tell me, luv.” James laid a few kisses along the inside of one thigh. Q's cock was already achingly hard and twitching, dribbling out precome. The kisses stopped short of where he wanted that damnably wonderful mouth, so close he could feel soft breaths sighed over his overheated skin. 

Finally driven beyond his capacity, Q grated out, “Suck me, please! Do it, you teasing bastard!”

“Whatever you say, Q” was the disgustingly cheerful response. Q couldn't find the breath for a retort since the next instant, James gripped the base of Q's cock firmly and slid his mouth over the head. A hot, agile tongue teased under the foreskin for an interminable time before James sank all the way down, pausing before coming back up slowly, sucking and doing something indescribable with his tongue on the underside of Q's cock. He repeated the teasing of the head before gliding back down and up again. Q was completely captivated. James was certainly not the first man to do this for him but the combination of completely controlled passion and meticulously skilled attention was overwhelming. 

The rhythm picked up gradually, a languid climb to ecstasy and Q knew he was babbling and moaning but couldn't make himself stop. His legs twitched the little that James' position allowed them and every nerve in his body was sparking with the response to James' actions. The firm grip on the base eased and the pressure of impending orgasm built. James moved that one hand to cradle Q's balls in a tender caress just as he sucked harder. Q was completely lost. Every muscle tensed and relaxed in waves as his climax erupted. He was aware, moments later of James sliding up the bed and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I'm sorry,” Q managed to gasp out. “I should have warned you.”

James rumbled a laugh. “I was giving you my best efforts there. I'd be disappointed if you didn't come.”

“Yes, but we never talked about it.” Q felt the need to protest. This wasn't how he normally did things. 

“I'm not complaining,” James reassured him. He gave a complacent stretch, settling next to Q, his own erection bumping at Q's hip as if he needed any reminding. 

“What would you like?” Q ventured to ask when he was a bit more sure of his voice. 

“Nothing too complex. I'm feeling a bit lazy.” Bond grinned, eyes half lidded.

“If this is you being lazy I may not survive you being energetic,” Q mused, running an exploratory hand over James' chest, over fine textured skin with only a scattering of blond hair. The real difference was the scars. Q wasn't sure if he should touch them but James led his hand gently to one of the worst ones, on the front of his right shoulder. Q knew the history of that one but there were so many others.

As Q continued his explorations, James settled back, folding up the pillows behind him, allowing him to follow Q's progress with an intent gaze. His fingers occasionally flexed in the mattress and he gave a low rumbling purr when Q flicked his tongue over a nipple. Q allowed himself a small smile. He repeated the motion and then dragged his new beard over the spot, James breathing in harshly at the light scratching. Q followed a meandering trail down over ribs and abdomen, taking time to appreciate the varied textures. He also found freckles, tiny ones, rather randomly scattered, and wondered if anyone had taken the time to appreciate them. He arrived, finally, at his goal. The route there had been fun but he had seriously wanted to acquaint himself with James' cock. It rose from a gathering of reddish blond curls, imposing this close up. Q nosed at it and inhaled, appreciating the vaguely salty, slightly musky mix of scents. He admired the rosy flush of the skin and the slow pulse of fluid that left a fine sheen on it. He reached out his hand in a light caress and steadied it. He licked it, running the flat of his tongue up and savoring the taste. He slid his mouth over the broad head and began a slow steady glide, sucking and teasing with his agile tongue.

This was one of Q's favorite things. He enjoyed pleasuring a partner, especially as now when his own arousal was sated for the moment. He could focus on James' subtle reactions. And the man was giving only the most minute of cues, a hitch in the breathing, a slow clench and release of muscles, these were all Q was getting. Time to change the game a bit. He took a deep breath through his nose and, on the next downward slide, kept going. He opened his throat and swallowed. James let out a high keening sound and his body bowed. It was impossible to smile with his mouth this full, but Q was gleeful. He slipped up and almost off, glancing sideways. James was watching him with wide eyes and open mouth. Q grinned, knowing his lips had to be red and spit slick and watched James close his eyes and slowly reopen them. Q decided he had James' full attention now. Eyes locked on James', he took a deep breath and began that same slow descent, and swallowed hard and repeatedly until liquid heat flooded his throat and James shouted his name, the loudest sound he'd made in the entire encounter. 

Q eased away slowly, allowing James' softening cock to slip gently from his mouth. He settled himself with his head on a muscular thigh, hearing the quiet settle around them. The boat had a gentle underlying motion that was soothing, there was a background hum from crickets and creaking from the mooring lines. The moment stretched, perfect and complete in itself. Neither of them moved for a long time. Eventually, James reached a hand down and sifted his fingers through Q's hair. Q hummed happily, rubbing his face into the palm of James' hand. “I'm not sure what I was expecting, but that was amazing.” James' voice barely broke the quiet of the cabin. His hand tugged a bit and Q followed the unspoken request and moved up the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

Q settled himself after several shifts, on his side, resting his head on James' bicep. James, for his part, was sprawled over the mattress in unconscious leonine mastery of his personal space. “So, how long?” James asked, poking in mild interest at the love bite he'd left. Q squirmed a bit and decided he wasn't going to avoid the interrogation, gentle as it might be.

“It's not as if I can put a real time line to it,” Q began. “I mean, I always noticed you. I'd have to be blind not to.” He jabbed a finger into James' ribs when he saw the smirk that comment produced. “Nothing wrong with your ego either. Noticing wasn't the problem. You were just around all the time when you weren't in the field. It feels different when you're in the same room, more real. Funny thing, I just had this conversation with Ethan. He accused me of falling for a straight man.”

James laughed, softly and kissed the top of Q's now hopelessly tangled hair. “I thought you were smarter than that. Never make assumptions.”

Q sighed. “That's one assumption it's usually safer to make. Make a pass at the wrong man and the results can be anything but pretty.”

James tucked his chin down to look at Q seriously. “I take it you speak from experience.”

Q smiled ruefully and shook his head. “A long time ago, and he didn't hit me but I was much more careful after that. Anyway, there's too many hoops to jump through to date anyone when I work where I do.”

“Well I can say for certain that you haven't lost your touch,” James replied with a satisfied stretch. “Just wish I had known sooner. We could have been doing this for months but I suppose I can't blame you for exercising caution. I've never been 'straight', just found women easier to fit into the persona of the field agent. People have funny ideas about that. You?”

“Always men for me. When I was thirteen, I had a huge crush on my maths teacher. All the other boys were mooning about over the female history teacher who wore very tight dresses. They couldn't understand why I was always asking for extra math tutoring.”

James snickered. “Did the teacher ever figure it out?”

“If he did, he never let me know it. In hindsight, he may have and was just careful not to give me any more than just math lessons. Which is not to say that I didn't go home and wank off to some fantasies.” 

James tightened his arm around Q and dipped his mouth very close to an ear. “Want to play out a fantasy someday with me as the teacher?”

Q laughed out loud. “No, just no! Role playing doesn't do much for me. I can never stay in character and end up finding it silly instead of sexy.”

“Good to know,” James replied. “But that still leaves so many lovely possibilities. How do you feel about ropes?”

Q pinched him, huffed and closed his eyes pointedly.


	8. Chapter 8

The morning light peeking in around the edges of the shades had an odd quality. Q fumbled his glasses on and surmised it must be a combination of light reflecting off the water and the slight motion of the boat. He was alone in the bed but he could hear faint noises. Bond was somewhere close. He wandered to the shower and found the water a good temperature if a bit less pressure than he liked. Once cleaned up, he realized he had no fresh clothes. He tucked the towel end in firmly and tried to look nonchalant as he wandered out into the living area. 

Bond was at the stove, watching a pan full of bacon, the source of the wonderful smell that suffused the space. Q dug around in the duffel, pulling out clean clothes and absently wondering how long they might end up cruising around before needing to do laundry. He giggled quietly to himself. The fact that he was worrying about laundry when there were potential assassins and police after them was vaguely surreal. He supposed it made sense. Dirty clothes were simple to deal with. He was sufficiently distracted that Bond's quiet wolf whistle made him jump and almost trip, one leg in and one out of his clean pants. He craned his head around awkwardly and found the man frankly appraising him. “Watch the food, please. I'd actually like my breakfast to be edible.”

Bond grinned unrepentant and turned the bacon, adding eggs to a second pan. “The water's hot if you want tea,” he offered. He finished off the eggs and turned off the heat under the bacon. “Come eat.” He served up the plates and grabbed his own coffee. They ate in silence for the first few moments. Bond finally hit the remote for the TV and tuned in the news. He gestured at the screen, still prominently featuring the search for two suspected bombers. “Any further thoughts?”

Q finished a bit of bacon and took a sip of his tea. “I'm wondering if the Chinese connection is more involved than we thought. What if the firewall at Lansdorf's company was deliberately full of holes? That hacker may not have been a hacker. She didn't want to pass data to a foreign national but if they got in through a back door, that gives her plausible deniability. I'm guessing they may have been after data on the guidance chip. She lost the contract and immediately her IT department turns over and is full of people who have ties to China and they're all looking for the person who spoiled their party.”

“Meaning you,” Bond replied. “The boat has wifi. If you had a tablet, would that help you?”

“I didn't bring one,” Q admitted. “I didn't think I 'd need more than my phone for a short trip to visit a friend.”

Bond had finished his food and pushed back from the table. He rummaged in one of the cases he had removed from his car. He returned to the table, passing over a tablet with the MI6 logo discretely stamped on the back case. Q stared. Employees over a certain level were all issued laptops and tablets, suitably encrypted and frequently upgraded. He hadn't realized Bond used the one he had been issued. Q tracked the electronics used on missions but not the personal ones. He rather hoped that meant the tablet wouldn't immediately set off alarms for their opponents.

Q opened the screen and realized the tablet had actually been used for more than a paper weight. Bond had accounts for several electronic book sellers and appeared to belong to a discussion group for military members and veterans. The icons were all displayed along the left margin. He opened the browser and found the boat's wifi, quickly set up a vpn and used a backdoor to contact R. He summarized his theory, that the Chinese Ministry of State Security had connections to Legend Unlimited and were behind the attack. She sent him what she had established so far. He looked at the screen and tapped his fingers against the table edge. “Lansdorf's replaced the entire IT security division at her main offices. R has a list. A few of them have connections to China that are fairly easy to see. When she dug a bit, she found gaps in almost every file. It seems Chinese military intelligence is concerned about how their operation was found out. These wouldn't be field agents though. They're the equivalent of Q branch techs, perhaps with some field skills but not your level. My concern is they have agents of that level in Britain and can activate them.”

Bond nodded seriously. “Makes sense. We have agents in and out of China all the time. They must have at least a few here at any given point.” He sipped some of his coffee. “Not sure what your databases have but their major failing in the field is they rely on instructions from Beijing rather than improvising the way the 00 section does. Less flexibility. They have talent but they don't make full use of it.”

“Have you ever come up against one of their agents?” Q asked.

“A few times,” Bond replied. “Missions in Asia. There was an agent in Hong Kong that was after the same target I was. He was quite good. I think I'm better but part of that is the quartermaster system. Their handlers don't let the leash go slack. Q branch gives us the tools and then let's us use them. I moved faster because of it and that meant I was successful.” 

Q nodded, looking down at the tablet screen. “That was the impression I got of their methods. I'm sniffing around Beijing's firewalls to see if I see any patterns. Lots of activity but some fairly concentrated stuff occurring at times that coincided with the attack on my car and at the cafe. R's working on the information sent to the police. The alerts on us may be canceled shortly. She managed to convince the police IT branch head to look at the signatures on the data they were working from. Backtracking is ongoing but it should be fairly convincing.”

“It may make Lansdorf's people more desperate,” Bond observed. 

“Presuming they've been tapping police sources, hoping the roadblocks and bulletins would do the work for them, they're going to need to put more feelers out now.” Q tapped an idle finger on the edge of the tablet. 

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Bond asked with an eyebrow raised.

“First of all, if we are starting to think alike, I may need to reconsider my life choices. Second, yes, I am considering setting a trap.” Q tapped a few more times at the screen and then reached for the route map the boat rental had provided. He studied the areas at the eastern end of the route. “This portion has some remote stretches.” He traced the area with a finger. “If we have R work with the police, make it seem as if they are still looking for us, we can direct attention here and make sure we have agents in place to interdict anyone coming after us. And there is plenty of open space. Easier to see them coming and fewer risks to civilians.”

Bond leaned in, eyed the map and nodded. “What? Have R plant reports of our fugitive selves being seen in the fens? It would have to be subtly done. Too obvious and they won't take the bait.”

“Agreed. But I do think it might be the best way to do it.” Q tapped a few lines into the tablet. His breakfast plate was long empty and he was on his third cup of tea by the time he surfaced again. By that time, Bond had cleaned up the breakfast dishes and unmoored the boat to begin cruising slowly in the direction of the open areas of the fens. Q poked his head out the hatch and blinked in the bright daylight. Bond was leaning against the rail, arm looped over the tiller, scanning the banks. Q perched on the upper step and leaned back on his elbows, stretching his back and basking in the sun. It was warm today for the season and he had shed the windcheater. When he squinted his eyes open after a few moments, Bond was smiling at him.

“I'm surprised you don't get more colour. You seem to enjoy the sun.” Bond commented.

Q snorted. “I don't engage in many outdoor activities and just lying about is a waste of time.” He stretched again, loosening his back muscles and feeling the pull of the bruises still so prominent on his ribs. “Still, the heat feels good right about now.”

Bond made a gradual shift of the tiller to move around another boat, this one with a party of young men and women at the stern, They laughed and waved, moving past easily. Q reflected that this canal trip might actually be a nice way to holiday. Considering the plan he had been working out with R, he asked, “How far to the stretch out by Bedford?”

Bond calculated in his head. “Maybe another day or so if we keep moving six hours a day. The area between  
St Neot's and Bedford has areas that are fairly sparse, fields and farmland. Do we have a plan?”

Q quirked one eyebrow up. “R and her opposite number in the police have. They've set up a ghost site, one our presumed Chinese pursuers will access. A tip from a responsible civilian will put us in a stretch of the route away from populated areas. The 'police anti terrorist units' will actually be MI6 personnel. We are not to communicate with them. All communication is through R only. If Lansdorf's Chinese friends come after us, they'll be dealing with trained agents.”

Bond pondered a moment. “It's a bit of a risk. They might not take the bait, our troops might not get them before they get to us and I don't have much firepower. We have our personal weapons and a limited amount of ammunition. Still, might be the best way to control the situation.”

Q shifted up to sit against the rail, bringing his knees up and resting his crossed arms on top of them. Bond dropped the hand not on the tiller and rested it on the back of Q's neck, rubbing lightly. Q shamelessly encouraged the contact, tilting his head and presenting new areas of skin for Bond to caress. He closed his eyes for a bit, as the fingers rubbed up and down, stroking idly.

“How bad a mess is your back?” Bond asked, startling Q out of his pleasant reverie. The light touches continued so he wasn't too bothered. 

Q sighed and assessed the messages his body was sending. Forced high speed contact with a seatbelt and an airbag was definitely something to be avoided. The knife slice over his ribs was actually the least painful injury. “I'm sure you've had worse,” he ventured.

Bond gave an admonitory tug at his hair. “And I know how bad a car crash can make you feel. Just because it's happened too many times doesn't make it easy. When we stop for the evening, I'll give you a massage. You're carrying a lot of tension in your neck.”

Q glanced up and frowned. “Since when are you a physio?” he challenged.

Bond smirked. “Never said I was. But I've picked up enough technique over the years.”


	9. Chapter 9

They stopped and moored before sunset, Bond again took pains to find a space not readily overlooked and where there was enough foliage and loose stones near the tow path that they would give away someone approaching. By the time Bond had completed his survey of the area, including a foray to look at other nearby boats, Q was already putting seasoned chops on the grill and had the news on the TV with the volume turned down. They were no longer the top story but there was mention that the fugitive terrorists were still being sought. Bond switched over to a football match and pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator. They ate companionably with Bond complaining bitterly that his team was being managed by an idiot as they lost resoundingly. He handed the remote to Q and took charge of the kitchen clean up. Q flicked through channels for a bit and found a rerun of The IT Crowd and settled back sipping at his beer and snickering. The show was utterly idiotic but he found he loved the Goth tech in the server room. He'd often wondered if the workplace dress code in MI6 was too restrictive and thought some of his staff might surprise him if they were allowed to dress as they pleased.

Bond was digging around in one of the bags he had brought along. As the episode ended, Bond reached around and plucked the remote out of Q's hand. Q looked up and into James' upside down face. He tried to twist around and ouched as muscles pulled. James kissed his forehead and gestured at the bow. “Hot shower, hot as you can stand and then lie down on the bed.” Q felt disinclined to argue the point. As much as he hated anyone managing him, James was correct in his judgment that Q was feeling a bit battered. And wasn't it odd how he shifted his thinking to the more personal given name so easily when the situation felt more intimate? It was Bond when they were on the move and plotting ways out of their dilemma. Now, with the evening closing around them and the prospect of closer contact, James slid easily over his consciousness. Q wandered off to the tiny bathroom and pulled the sliding door closed, hoping to keep the heat in a bit. He stepped under the shower and scrubbed cursorily, He had taken a shower that morning. This was less about cleaning and more about relaxing. He stayed under as long as he could without pruning and shut the water off as he stepped out. He grabbed a towel off the rack and dried off thoroughly. He brushed his teeth and wrapped a dry towel around himself, wandering through to the bedroom. James had been busy. The bed was straightened with the duvet folded neatly across the bottom and a large clean towel spread out across the sheets. Q settled on his front on the mattress, leaving his towel draped across his backside. As intimate as they had been, he was still a bit nervous about being seen naked. James, as unconcerned as ever, wandered in wearing black briefs and carrying an amber glass bottle with a label in tiny script characters that looked as if it had been hand written. He rolled the bottle gently in his hands as he settled on the mattress near Q's hips. He made no comment on Q's attempt to preserve his modesty, merely held out a hand as Q fumbled his glasses off and attempted to get comfortable. 

Bond uncorked the bottle and waved the stopper under Q's nose. A light, pleasant aroma, with a definite presence of vanilla, tickled his senses. “It's made by a small apothecary in Amsterdam,” Bond said conversationally. “I order a lot of it. I prefer it to the generic stuff the physios use.” While he was speaking, James had poured some of the oil into his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm the oil and release more of the scent. The first touch made Q flinch, just the brush of oily hands over his shoulders, giving way to a firm pressure that progressed to a slow, methodical exploration of Q's back, digging in where tension lurked and then smoothing over the skin when the muscles unraveled their painful grip. Q was quietly surprised. The touches were not clinical in the way a professional masseur might be. Nor were they erotic at all. Just slow purposeful rendering of comfort.

The patient process continued, James gentling the pressure over the dip of Q's spine, fanning his fingers out in feathering movements. He shifted the towel and Q barely noticed as the hands glided over his buttocks, and slid down to his thighs, then back up, the heavier muscles there requiring more manipulation to ease the tension. Q was floating somewhere just short of dozing when James tapped his hip. “Roll over,” he directed. To his own surprise, Q did exactly that. James added more oil and started at Q's shoulders, avoiding putting pressure on the clearly visible bruise left by the seatbelt. The massage continued in a purposeful fashion, leaving more comfort in it's wake, finishing at Q's feet. Ordinarily, Q was ticklish there but James seemed to know the exact pressure to use to avoid the feeling. Q was completely relaxed and was mildly surprised when James stood up and left the bed. He returned with a warm towel, damp from the bath. He wiped up excess oil and removed the towel Q had been lying on and then laid down, pulling the folded duvet over them both. 

Q had imagined the massage might be a prelude to sex, but he was too happily boneless to worry much about it and fell asleep to the almost imperceptible movements of the boat under him and the steady breathing of James next to him.


	10. Chapter 10

There was a warm weight against his back and soft lips tickling his nape. He surfaced completely from sleep feeling better than he had in days. The bruises still were noticeable if he thought about them but he was no longer feeling as if every breath aggravated them. He responded to the teasing kisses by rolling over and coming face to face with James, smiling and deplorably bright eyed. Morning people! “Good morning,” he ventured as he slid hands around James' neck, sidling closer and tucking his nose into a convenient bit of neck. James smelled wonderful, and the particular small bit of skin was soft and shivered slightly when he breathed wetly into it. Strong arms tugged and rearranged his limbs until he was lying on top of James. He was aware he was aroused but it was a lazy sort of interest at present. When he shifted a bit, he discovered James was in a similar state. 

As if reading his mind, James commented, “Don't rush anything. Sometimes it's nice to just let things happen.” Q reflected on that for a moment. He had never had a long term relationship. The few people he had dated had been all about the urgency of the moment. He supposed this was what it might be like if he and James became a regular thing. Right now it felt very comfortable, like they could spend as much time as they needed. He nosed lightly at James' ear, appreciating the soft up and down strokes along his spine, James' hands smoothing over his skin. His body moved slightly, a gentle undulation in response to those caresses. The warmth of the shared bed, the almost imperceptible rocking of the boat, their shared heartbeats created a bubble of intimacy that was unique in Q's experience. They moved in a slow erotic dance, their mutual arousal building gradually. “Feeling up to fucking?” James finally asked as their breathing accelerated and their kisses became more urgent. 

Q was happy enough with the suggestion. He wasn't shy about what he liked and he nodded eagerly. He looked wide eyed at his hands when James deposited lube and a condom in them, spreading his legs and dropping Q between them. “But, I thought...”

“What? I don't get a chance to do this often. I have to trust a person a bit. Or maybe you'd rather I do the work?” With a playful grin, James flipped them, leaving Q flat on the mattress. James sat back on his knees, reaching out to run two fingers up and down Q's cock. Q stared as a condom was unwrapped, rolled down his length and treated to a generous coating of lube. James held his gaze, straddling him and leaning forward. Q knew what he was doing when James' other hand disappeared and his face took on a look of concentration. He lifted, steadied Q's erection, and brushed the head against his opening before allowing his powerful thigh muscles to let him down just enough for the head to enter. He paused, a slight quiver of effort in his legs, and then lowered the rest of the way in a slow controlled motion. Q watched, breath harsh and rasping, and held still feeling his cock enveloped in blood hot flesh that rippled around him. James let out a long breath and smiled. “You feel fantastic, Q” 

Q reached out a tentative hand, brushing lightly over the sweat sheened skin. “James, you're bloody amazing, nggh!” He ended on an incoherent grunt as James squeezed and relaxed and then began a slow up and down glide on Q's cock, every movement an exercise in control. Q began to push up to meet the downward slide, both of them chasing pleasure. James drew Q's hands to his cock, leaking precome, the head pushing past the foreskin. He fumbled a bit for the lube, adding some to his hands and slicking them over and around in the ways he liked. James breath came faster and he sped up his motions and Q matched the rhythm. He couldn't remember ever feeling this level of excitement, the tortuously slow movements stretching time around this private space. The building heat and pressure eventually became too much. As much as he wanted to stay here, suspended at the peak of pleasure, the urgency of the need to come made him writhe up, trying to sheathe himself even deeper. James ground down, gripping hard with an impossible clench of internal muscles and heavy spurts of come erupted from his cock, coating Q's stomach and chest. Q watched his lover's pleasure greedily, amazed at the pink flush that bloomed over James' fair skin. He stopped fighting the need to hold out and allowed the last few movements to trigger his own release, collapsing as James shifted off and settled next to him, a heavy arm across Q's belly. Soft lips toyed with his ear. Q managed to expend what felt like the last of his energy disposing of the condom.

Q took a bit of time to catch his breath, cleared his throat and ventured, “That was a bit unexpected.”

James chuckled. “Don't over analyze. I'm very flexible about what I like in bed. I was in the mood for something I haven't indulged in for a bit. You apparently thought I meant I'd fuck you and I very much want to do that but I was being just a bit selfish. Do you mind?”

Q's eyes widened. “Of course I don't mind. Just your reputation...”

James snorted. “You thought I was going to sweep you off your feet and nail you to the mattress. Not likely. You're too stroppy by half to be anything other than an enthusiastic participant.” He kissed Q's nose and then his mouth. “We both need showers and breakfast. We'll be moving up to the stretch in the fens late this afternoon.”


	11. Chapter 11

They cruised slowly, the overcast sky promising rain later. Bond was standing at the tiller, Q seated in the hatch opening, hidden from casual view. “How are your marksmanship scores?”

Q looked up from the map he was studying. “I'm very good at the range, but I've never had to fire on a live target,” Q replied honestly. 

Bond gave a thoughtful nod. “I have an idea. If things get too hot, you may need to get out of the line of fire entirely.”

Q looked around sceptically. “Not too many places to hide on a boat,” he observed.  


“I was thinking more about off the boat,” Bond mused.

Q gestured at the surrounding landscape, all fields and low fences. “Not too many options there either.”

Bond squinted ahead, a lock appearing in the near distance. “I'll show you what I have in mind later, after we tie up for the evening.”

They were tied up early, the threatened rain making the late afternoon dreary and chill. Q had contacted R and was assured there were field agents moved into position ahead of them. The plan was for a report to show their location and have the agents intercept whoever showed up, presumably the Chinese. Bond was listening to the information while cleaning their weapons, Q's personal sidearm, his pistol, and a rather nice shotgun he had brought along. He made a careful tally of the available ammunition, not nearly enough to make him happy, although there was certainly a lot more for the shotgun. He reassembled the cleaned weapons and left them within easy reach. Q read the body language as a prelude to the violence they were likely to deal with the following day. 

“Come over here, Q,” he gestured at the gear he had stowed in a corner of the living space. He hefted his diving tanks onto the table. 

“I told you I can't dive, James.” Q pointed at the tanks. “I know the principles but you don't have time to give me a class.”

“You only have to remember one or two things for what I have in mind.” He gestured to the valves on the end of the tank. “These are three quarters full. You could reasonably stay under for close to an hour with that. This is the regulator.” Bond held up the device. “This goes in your mouth. The mask blocks your nose so you breathe through your mouth. The only pieces you need to know about are the valve to open the air flow, the mask and the regulator. If I tell you to, you open the air valve, grab the tanks and the mask and go over the side. You can hang onto the side of the boat or the mooring line and just keep your head under. The water isn't all that clear and will ruin the aim of anyone firing at you, never mind that water slows a bullet considerably.” 

Q reluctantly accepted the regulator, turning it in his hands and finally fitting it into his mouth, following Bond's directions to make sure it was right side up. It was actually easy, although the air tasted oddly, plastic and metallic. He breathed quietly for a bit before Bond retrieved the regulator and gestured him outside to the stern. He looked around carefully, making sure there were no onlookers. He stripped out of his clothing, down to his pants and Q, suspecting what he was about, did the same. They slipped over the side, Q gasping at the chill. James handed him the mask and regulator, holding the tanks and reopening the valve. Q slipped on the mask, having left his glasses on the deck. “Just breathe and put your face in the water,” James coached. Q did and once the initial unfamiliarity subsided, found he could breathe easily. He came back up after several minutes when he felt a tap on his shoulder. James smiled encouragingly. “Feeling OK? Good. Now, let yourself sink down. Put your whole head under. You may have to grab the mooring rope to stay down.” Doing as directed, Q found his buoyancy did require him to pull the rope. He stayed down, breathing, acclimating. He felt confident enough to look around a little, although there was not much to see. He felt the tap to his shoulder and came up. He surrendered the equipment and he and James clambered back aboard. They hurried back to the warmth of the cabin, Q shivering and heading for the shower. 

By the time he had warmed up enough, he found James outside the cubicle with a towel and his glasses. They traded places, after Q let out a very high pitched screech when James ran his own chilled skin against Q's shower-warmed body as they slid past each other. James, the bastard, cackled, and caught Q's face for a kiss, his lips cool but his mouth hotly promising. Q hurried to the bedroom, sliding under the covers. A little later, he heard the shower patter to a stop, James moving silently in the passage, appearing naked in the doorway. 

Q had a brief second to remove his glasses and push them to safety on the wide shelf of the headboard as James took two steps forward and pounced. The bed was solid and withstood the sudden assault. Q's laughing protest was smothered in a series of hungry kisses as they wrestled, James tugging at the blankets to get them out of the way. Q was startlingly erect in such a short time that he swore he could feel the rush of blood to his cock. He made a grab for James when he pulled away, wanting more of the heated kisses. James acceded for a bit, his tongue searching out the shape of Q's mouth, stroking every surface with dedicated attention as Q scratched his fingers through short blonde hair. 

James finally exerted himself enough to push up and urge Q over on his belly. Q settled, crooking a leg up to allow room for his erection and pillowed his head on his crossed arms. He felt the slow trail of fingertips down his spine, followed by the damp tracing of lips and tongue and soft presses of teeth. He arched his back, trying to get closer to the tantalizing touches. James hummed into his skin, and moved lower, placing a nip on one buttock then soothing it with a kiss. Q felt the press of the calloused palms spread him and the first wet tongue touch on his opening made him stiffen and let out a sharp gasp. “James!”

“Relax, love.” James' breath gusted over obscenely exposed skin.

“You have to be joking,” the last syllable rising to a shrill cry as James' tongue stabbed inward, the motion repeated several times then returning to broad sweeps of tongue. Q found himself reduced to soft desperate sounds and squirming motions that did little to get him closer to the stimulation but rubbed his leaking cock across the bedding and all the while James was working him slowly open with his tongue, the sounds softly, lasciviously erotic. He tried to get purchase to thrust into the mattress but James pressed him down harder and increased his efforts until Q was sobbing into the pillow. He heard a soft crinkling sound and James pulled his hips up a bit. There was a chill drizzle across his hole and a slow building pressure. Q bore down and grunted in satisfaction as the head of James' cock entered him. Q shoved back hard and threw his head back, arching his spine and feeling the stretch as James slid home, filling him, firm and undeniable. James set a rhythm that lifted Q off his knees and had him howling his pleasure. Q wasn't sure where this sudden freedom to allow his pleasure voice had come from, but James seemed to bring it out easily. The drive to ecstasy built, Q calling out for more with every thrust until he stiffened and came, feeling James falter in his own rhythm a few seconds later, signaling his own climax. Sweating and loose limbed, Q collapsed, breathing heavily into the pillow doubled under him. James' kisses gentled him, soft brushes over his shoulders and the sensitive back of his neck as he tugged the blankets and duvet over them then pulled him into a loose embrace. Q drifted off to sleep with the slow steady thud of James' heartbeat under his ear.


	12. Chapter 12

The morning was as dim as the previous afternoon had been, a slight mist clinging to surfaces and softening the edges of the world. They breakfasted in relative quiet, soft touches communicating what they didn't say. The messages from R told them that they were dealing with at least four Chinese agents who had been allowed access to the supposed secret information about the 'fugitives' and their suspected location. They got moving after cleaning up the breakfast things, James standing at the tiller, the shotgun under a waterproof cover in easy reach. Q kept the burner phones handy, getting messages from R detailing how close they were to the point they suspected the Chinese might use to initiate an attack. It was on a broad, flat stretch of the river, no houses close by and the narrowboat made slow progress toward it. Q watched as James, his affectionate loving companion, put on his other face, the one he showed on missions, dispassionate and calculating, watching the banks and registering every motion and judging its' threat level. 

There was a sharp crack and splinters flew from the corner of the hatch cover. James dropped one hand to the shotgun and lowered his stance to put more of his body behind the railing. Q held his own weapon ready, eying James sharply to take cues from him. There were more shots, a sudden rapid tattoo of sharp reports. Dark figures appeared, rushing toward the banks on either side, the gear all familiar MI6 issued kevlar and canvas but the assassins continued their fire on the boat and there seemed to be more than the expected four. There were thuds impacting and rocking the boat and rapid footfalls. James leaned his arms on the top of the hatch cover and fired four quick shots before ducking back to cover. There was a harsh grunt and a slithering sound followed by a splash. As the boat drifted onward, a body bumped past, Q watching as it drifted into their wake. There was an urgent exchange forward in rapid fire Mandarin. Q caught a few words, speaking about the skills of the opponent they were facing. 

“They're going to rush us, Bond,” Q whispered. Bond reached out a hand and gestured for Q's sidearm and pointed at the tanks. Q paled but followed the direction, slinging the tank straps over one shoulder and slipping on the mask, his glasses tucked in a pocket. He slid as quietly as he could off the stern, easing around to the starboard side and clinging to the rope James had fixed there for the purpose. As he turned the valve and put the regulator in his mouth, he heard the harsh guttural blast of the shotgun. He breathed as James had taught him and pulled himself below the surface. The water was murky and the overcast made it even darker. The only thing he could see was shadows and the bubbles of the exhaust from the regulator. The water muffled the sounds of the gun battle overhead. He almost lost the regulator when a body in a dark suit plummeted into the water and brushed past him, long dark hair trailing after it. It took effort to keep himself in place and more effort to keep his breathing slow and not hyperventilate. 

The hull shuddered and shifted against him, threatening to shake him loose or jam him against the bank. The continued movement let him know the battle was still going on. He eased along the rope toward the bow, moving first one hand then the other. There wasn't a lot of room under the keel, he knew. He pushed further down, his feet meeting the muddy bottom. Shifting carefully, he slid to the port side and clung there, finally lifting his head above the surface. He heard what sounded like a struggle at the stern but heard no further shooting. He slid the mask off and put his glasses on, keeping his head low. He saw figures on the bank, MI6 combat gear identifying them standing over forms in the grass. He felt the boat shift once more, violently, and then a single shot. He carefully slipped his glasses off, the mask back on and sank soundlessly back under, unsure what the result of the conflict was. There could still be an assassin on board. For long moments, he hovered next to the hull, breathing slowly and trying to keep the rising bubbles directed against the hull, hoping they would be less noticeable. A vibration echoed through the hull and water and a broad hand reached through the water and touched his hair. He felt a surge of relief. That hand was firm, a careful known presence. Q let himself rise, surfacing and looking up to see James' silhouette against a grey sky. It was all he needed to see. He gripped the hand that reached to help him, smelled gunpowder and blood, and pulled himself up to the narrow space at the bow. His feet slipped between James' and one solid arm circled him, both of them balancing carefully. Q let the tanks drop haphazardly to the deck, James pulling the mask off his face. He realized James was not using his left arm, the sleeve darkened by what Q knew was blood. The injury couldn't have been too severe. There was not enough blood for that. James' face bore some new bruises, his eyes bright and questioning studying Q's face, excluding everything and everyone around them. For just a moment they hesitated, neither one later able to say who moved first. The kiss was a sweet assurance they were both alive, both safe and neither of them noticed at all that several of the agents on the banks were watching.


	13. Chapter 13

The hallways of the upper administrative levels of MI6 were floored with mirror polished tiles, bisected down the midline with plush expensive runners to cushion the footsteps of those who were privileged or cursed to work there or who were called there to answer for their actions. Both Bond and Q had been there often. Bond's arm was still in a sling. Now, as he and Q strode down the corridor, he grumbled about the straps spoiling the line of his suit. “Oh stop complaining. You still look amazing,” Q chided.

“That's just because you got to see me naked this morning,” James whispered back, grinning when Q felt his face heat and knew he was blushing. Q held his tongue as they were admitted to M's office. 

“007, Quartermaster. You seem to have created quite a stir.” M studied the file on his desk before looking up at the two of them. “Oh, sit down.” He pointed at the two chairs opposite his desk. “It appears you have halted a Chinese attempt to undermine our missile defense program. Margery Lansdorf is under arrest and in one of our interrogation rooms. She's resistant but we have sufficient evidence to keep her in prison for treason. Her legal team is kicking up a fuss but she violated the Official Secrets Act. If she admits her guilt and gives us her contacts we'll avoid a trial and be able to block further leaks. I'll make sure Q branch has the full details. I'm sure they will be useful.” 

Q nodded acknowledgment. “I'm sure we can make use of the data.” He shifted in his chair, sure that this was not the matter they were really there for. Bond was more circumspect, seeming relaxed and unconcerned.

M continued, still looking at the files, leafing through the pages with studied casual gestures. “I have a request for payment of damages to the Black Prince boatyard for repair to one of their narrowboats, a statement of damages to a fence by a farmer stating the downed fence allowed his alfalfa crop to be damaged by his neighbor's cows, as well as vet bills from the neighbor for treating his cows for bloat. Happily, it appears the treatment was successful or we might have had to pay the cost of replacing the cattle.” He paused and looked up. “I am inclined to regard all this as minor damage in the course of a useful anti espionage action although I am not sure how I will report these items in the budget.” He closed the file cover, sat back and clasped his hands on top of the manila folder. “I am a bit more curious about the reports I have of a particular occurrence at the close of the operation.” He looked from Bond to Q slowly. Q felt his stomach curl on itself. Bond gave no indication he was affected at all. Q kept his face as expressionless as possible, merely raising an eyebrow, hoping if he said nothing, the matter would drop. M stared at him a moment more and then picked up a single page lying next to the folder. He looked at it and back to Q. “I am sure it was a misinterpretation. I am also certain I will not hear of any such thing again.” He carefully fed the paper to the shredder on the credenza behind his desk. He waved a hand at the door. “Take some leave, gentlemen. You both have sufficient time. Let Tanner know the details.” He returned his attention to his work, an obvious dismissal. Bond and Q exited, leaving the executive suite and retreating to Q's office. 

Once the door closed, Q sank into his chair, hands raking through his hair. “He knows. M knows.”

James eased into the visitor chair. “And?” He raised his right hand placatingly. “You are too important to this agency for M to make too much of an issue. He doesn't condone the fraternization but he knows better than to try and prevent it. There are at least a half dozen couples here that are breaking the same rules. So long as we keep doing our jobs, he won't do anything. And what we just managed to do proved we can do the job.”

Q looked up sharply. “Half a dozen? I only know of four. This damned place is full of spies and we have that many relationships going on under people's noses.” He shook his head.

James smiled, a crooked sly look. “Who says people don't know? Face it. We are the only people who can put up with each other. And M knows it and knows about all these relationships and lets it go. Because it's actually better for us all if he does nothing. Now call Tanner and tell him how much leave you want. We're taking a holiday.”

“Any place in particular?” Q asked as he punched in Tanner's extension. 

“I fancy some real sailing. Maybe head to Jamaica and rent a sailboat. Maybe I'll teach you to snorkel. The reefs are amazing.”

Q paused and put the phone down. “Just so long as we're back by the end of the month. You're my plus one at a wedding. Ethan is going to laugh himself sick when he sees me show up with you.”

James grinned. “Do I need to have a talk with Ethan?”

Q frankly giggled. “Please don't. His little academic heart won't take it. Anyway, he's not at all what I need. I need someone who can go on the run with me and make me fall in love in the middle of a damned disaster.” He halted and his eyes flew wide in alarm. “Um, I don't suppose you might just forget the last part, please?”

James tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “No, I don't believe I will.” He looked up and caught Q's gaze. “I'd much rather know I'm not in this alone.”

Q took a moment to register the meaning and almost flew over the desk, crawling into James' lap and tugging at his ears to get their mouths lined up. “No, we're together. From now on, we're together.”


End file.
